


Hemlock

by ShyBear



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: AU, Drama, F/F, Ghosts, Golly, LGBTQ Themes, Memories, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:02:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyBear/pseuds/ShyBear
Summary: Post season 6 - Gail





	1. Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> I must be crazy... but here you are, a whole new story. I hope you like it.

The lake had been here since the last of the great glaciers had thrust stone to earth, gouging out a bottomless chasm to accept the remains of their defeat by a warming planet, and the unforgiving rays of the sun. Her family too, had been here by its shores, generation after generation, time out of mind before the town was settled, since her ancestors had stumbled to this continent fleeing war, or famine, or the heavy yoke of tyranny. They had lived here by these waters beneath the towering maples, and the ancient pines, where they had prospered, becoming as much a part of this place as the bedrock its self.

Her great great grandfather had built this house, closer to the shore, and much larger than the three room cabin that still remained in the woods beyond. Her grandfather had expanded upon it as a wedding present to her grandmother, adding the modern day amenities of electricity, central heating, and running water, along with the addition of the grand wrap-around porch that encompassed most of the house, and swept around the right side of the building with its gazebo on the rear corner looking out across the water. She never expected to be returning here, to this place after so many years, and all that had occurred. The ride up was quiet, with only the radio playing low to keep her company, and memories of a happier time, before her Uncle Stephen had been killed in the line of duty, a time when her father still sang camp songs to her while sitting on the edge of her bed at night, and the smile had yet to leave her mother's eyes. There was a time when she and her brother would press their noses up against the rear window of their parent's station wagon as they crossed the bridge at Wilson's Creek, after they made one final stop for gas and groceries at the General Store, in heady anticipation of the days ahead. The lake house had been their refuge then, in those sun-soaked, lazy days of summer when there was time enough to play, and think, and grow under the watchful and loving eyes of two older generations.

The sun sat low on the horizon, and the wind picked up as she pulled into the once familiar drive. Thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of her leather jacket, she stepped from the car, hunching her shoulders to try and ward off the chill of late autumn. A frigid breeze ruffled her hair, and churned the steel blue surface of the water before her. It matched her mood, causing her to laugh bitterly to herself as her fingers curled around the heavy brass key to the front door of what would now be her home. She chewed on her lower lip feeling small. Unready to go inside just yet, she walked down the lawn to the wooden stairs that led to the boat launch. This was the beach where her father had taught her, and her brother to swim. Standing at the waters edge, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to breathe it all in, attempting to soothe the knot that had formed behind her eyes and ache in her chest. The sun sank lower, panting the lake and the sky in crimson and rust, allowing the darkness to creep into her bones, along with the cold. As her teeth began to chatter, she turned from the lake, making her way back up toward the house. She would unpack her car in the morning.

It had been almost six months after her brother went to jail when she was summoned to appear in court again. She assumed that something had gone wrong with his plea deal, and that she would either be forced to testify against him, or perhaps she was being brought up on charges herself, even though she had had no idea of her family's involvement in organized crime. She had faltered on the stand when called to testify, unable to tell the truth, or lie to create an alibi for him. Her parents had been furious!

"No daughter of ours could possibly have been that disloyal.", was the very last thing her mother said to her on the phone on the day she had called to find out how Steve was doing.

That had been almost four months ago now. Her father hadn't spoken to her since her brother had initiated a deal to keep her from having to testify at all. When Steve found her crying softly in the courthouse hallway, he gently gathered her in his arms and whispered that he was still her older brother, and promised to do the right thing, to take care of her, before demanding to speak with the judge and the prosecutor. As he walked away, her father regarded her for a moment, silent rage coloring his face, making the vein on his temple bulge and throb.

"Traitor!" He spat at her, before spinning on his heel and storming after Steve.

She wasn't sure if she felt anger, disappointment, hurt, or simply relief that no one in her immediate family felt that she was worthy of being brought into their family secrets. She had always been the odd one out. The one who no matter what she did, could never seem to be good enough for any of them, except sometimes, maybe Steve. To him she had simply been a burden, or so she felt, his weird little sister that he felt obligated to protect. Guilt prickled behind her eyes, and formed a lump in her throat. She had done a shit job at protecting him when he needed her! No wonder her parents had felt that she was unworthy to continue to bear their name. And now they were gone.

Her parents' lawyer was an older man with round glasses, and a kindly smile. She remembered him from the obligatory social events that her mother had insisted she attend. She briefly wondered what he was doing here, as the court officer ushered her into the magistrate's office and asked her to take a seat in one of the dark leather chairs. In spite of it all, nothing could have prepared her for the news that her parents had been killed in a suspicious accident when their car had been hit by a truck who's driver was allegedly asleep at the wheel, causing it to jump the barricade, roll several times, and burst into flames. She could barely remember being handed the thick Manila envelope, with her parents wills, and trusts that had been set up for her and her brother. The lake house was hers, he informed her, handing her the familiar set of keys. Much to her surprise, it always was, having been left in trust to her by her grandmother until she turned forty. Now that her parents were gone, he would be the acting trustee. He recommended she move there and get out of town while the investigation was ongoing. She remembered feeling numb as she was informed that because she had no useful knowledge of her families' activities or connections, that although she might be in some danger, there would be no protective detail assigned to her unless a threat proved imminent. It was strongly suggested she put in a transfer to the Ontario Provincial Police. And why not? It's not like anyone at the fifteenth trusted her or had her back anymore. They all hated her, and Traci couldn't even stand to be in the same room. The whole thing left her reeling from grief, and guilt, and shame, and the betrayal of everyone and everything she thought she once knew.

Her head was beginning to throb again. She paused for a moment under the bright porch light before slipping the key into the lock and opening the door. Hanging her jacket on a brass hook in the vestibule next to one of Steve's Maple Leafs hoodies, she kicked her boots off onto the rubber mat beside her father's slippers before opening the inner door and stepping inside. Everything was just as it had been, even the smell was the same. Passing by the dark oak staircase she made her way through the house, beginning to wonder if she had become a ghost, trapped in a shadowy world of memory. She listened to the pipes rattle and clang after pausing in the hall to turn the thermostat up from its lowest setting. Smelling the heat come on, she continued the ritual of opening up the house for habitation. It was exhausting.

Morning came too soon. Still buried under her Gran's good wool blanket and quilt in her grandparents big four poster bed, she watched the predawn glow illuminate the skeletons of trees as they emerged against the lake and the brightening sky. Wishing her stupid brain would let her sleep in, she got up with a groan, her heavy wool socks sliding silently across the wide boards of the hardwood floor. She shuffled to the bathroom, and then down the stairs in search of the means to make herself some coffee. The kitchen had been changed since she had last been here for her Grandmother's funeral, redone in her mother's taste with gleaming chrome fixtures, and hard stone countertops. Ignoring the fancy espresso maker, she rummaged in the pantry until she found her Gran's blue enamel percolator and set it on the stove. The comforting sound it made as it filled the room with its mouthwatering aroma soothed her. Her parents had been dead for two weeks, and she still didn't know what to say to Steve. He had looked smaller than she remembered him, and shaken when she visited him at the minimum security prison where he was incarcerated on her way out of the city. He told her then that he could be out in as soon as three years, if all went well. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Time passed slowly and then suddenly too fast, as it always seems to do, with nowhere to be and nothing to do but unpack her meager possessions from her car. No one from the Police station was expecting her until tomorrow. She sat at the round oak kitchen table watching the day grow bright, as the thick porcelain mug in her hands grew cold. She sighed, let go of her coffee, and allowed herself to slump, cheek resting on folded arms, pressing into the soft cotton of her Police Academy hoodie. The sun had moved high in the sky when she heard the loud banging on her front door. It woke her with a start.

"This had better be good." She grumbled with a scowl as she made her way to the front of the house.

She could see a tall man on her porch through the windows of both doors, standing, and fidgeting, his back turned to her, his denim jacket pulled tight across his broad shoulders. Dark hair peeked out from beneath the baseball cap he kept reaching up to nervously readjust. She wondered what he wanted. Well, she thought, at least she could tell by his casual attire, that he wasn't a Bible Thumper sent here to try to save her. She would hate to have to dispose of a body so soon after she moved back here. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled. Unwanted memories of Holly unfurled in her head. They hit her like a physical blow to her chest.

Fuck.

She stood still for a moment, pushing them away, regaining her composure. Of all of the fucked up things that had happened to her in the past year, Holly's absence hurt the most, and still, apparently, had the ability to ambush her at any time. She closed her eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to staunch the flow of memory. She took a deep, steadying breath and let herself out, into the entryway. The man was starting to bounce on his toes now.

"What?" She demanded sharply, flinging the front door open.

He spun around so quickly, he almost stumbled into her.

"Gail?" There was a brief look of surprise, followed by the boyish grin she remembered. "It is you!"

"Chris?" She practically felt her heart stop as he scooped her up into a bear hug and swung her around. "Chris, what are you doing here?" She managed to sputter as he finally set her back down on her feet.

"Well," he replied, still grinning at her, "I saw the car in the driveway, and I thought I'd better check it out."

"No! Dummy!" She licked her lips and gave him a hard shove on the shoulder, "I meant, here." She gestured at the ground, "what are you doing here?"

He simply laughed at her. She gave him a pointed look, and waited.

"I needed to get out of Toronto, and I couldn't go back to Timmins. So, when a position opened up in the OPP I applied. I put in my transfer from rehab the last time I was there." He grinned, "And now we're going to be working together again."

"Great." She rolled her eyes, "just when I thought I had finally gotten rid of all of you losers."

"Come on Gail, I know you're happy to see me." He told her, his grin getting bigger.

She rolled her eyes again, but she knew he was right. She was more than just happy to see him.

"I heard about your folks." He said, suddenly serious, "But right now, I'm gonna take you to get something to eat, and you can tell me all about it when we get to the diner."

"Mickey's?" She asked hopefully.

"Uh huh." He replied, grinning at her again.

"I guess so," she sauntered past him, pulling her jacket off the hook as she went, "but you're paying."

She could hear him laughing as she climbed into the comfort of his old familiar truck, and put her feet on the dashboard. She clicked on the radio, changing the station from country to classic rock.

"Come on Gail!" Chris complained, as he climbed into the driver's seat.

She ignored him. As she turned to look out of the passenger window, she realized that she was smiling, and felt ok for the first time she could remember in a long, long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gail's first day on the job in Hemlock is full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who are still reading this story. Sorry about the long wait between chapters. I have been super busy with work and travel. I do appreciate all of your support! Your comments, kudos and PMs keep me writing!

She came to her in dreams, curling around her like the intoxicating scent wood smoke from the ashes of a dead fire after it rains. It was then she would wake up to the sound of her own voice calling out the only name that ever made her feel like this, with the remains of that fire erupting inside of her, lighting her up for one brief moment. Breathing hard, and shaking, she would find herself alone in the dark. And then she would remember that she had left her too. She would remember why she couldn't pick up the phone. The chasm would open. Her heart pounding, she would clutch at the cold embrace of familiar sheets, as if they could be her anchor. Finally, silent tears would come before the comfort of sleep claimed her again. She prayed not to dream.

Sergeant Henri Roy stood leaning his hips on his desk, folder containing her service record in hand, his eyes opaque. She supposed that he could be an imposing figure, towering over her as she sat in her appointed chair, his knees nearly touching hers, his uniform shirt crisply starched within an inch of its life, pretending to be absorbed in the documents before him. She waited, her face impassive, watching him, watching her, as he glanced up over the top of the blue file folder. She was good at waiting. Waiting was one of the things that had been drilled into her since birth. She could almost hear her mother's voice behind that hard, cold smile, smugly telling her that any perp would crack and hang themselves, given enough rope, and enough time. Sergeant Roy shifted again, stroking his mustache, and glanced up over his Buddy Holly glasses. She could wait him out.

"Sergeant Shaw from your old division assures me, that in spite of your spotty service record, and your family history, that you are an excellent officer of the law, and should be an asset to our force here in Hemlock." He finally began.

She remained as still as the portrait of the past inspectors on the wall behind him. Watching him, watching her, all the while hoping that at the very least she would be given a chance to prove herself.

"As you know, I transferred here from the Nova Scotia devision two years ago. I didn't grow up with your Grandfather sitting in this chair, and I didn't know your parents." He tapped on his lower lip with his forefinger and paused, "From what I understand, with the recent investigation of your family's ties to organized crime, it may be just as well. I have also heard stories about your, and your brother's, youthful shenanigans from some of our older officers, but I wasn't here to witness them. So, I can let that go too." He continued gruffly.

She sighed inwardly, and wondered where he was going with this.

"I just want you to know that I will expect no more, no less of you than of every other officer in this excellent unit." He paused, giving her what she could only assume to be his hard stare. "But..."

"Here it comes." She thought, inwardly rolling her eyes as she continued to carefully school her outward demeanor.

"If I hear even one whisper of the kind of corruption in my unit that your family perpetuated in Toronto," He leaned forward slightly, "I will burry you faster than you can say nepotism. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." She responded softly, wondering why she thought this transfer was a good idea.

That seemed to satisfy him because he stood abruptly, and moved to stand behind his desk. "Good." He replied sternly, and then smiled, "Your training officer, and partner for the next six weeks will be officer Elizabeth Dorsey. You will meet her during parade in an hour. Do you have any other questions?"

"No sir" she stood.

"Very well." He held out his hand for her to shake, "As you know, we are a small detachment, covering a large amount of territory. My door is always open. Welcome to Hemlock."

"Thank you sir." She said as she shook his hand and bit back the sarcastic remark about how nice it was to be treated fairly for once.

Elizabeth Dorsey was short and round, with a splash of fluorescent pink lipstick, and a frosted soccer mom haircut. Gail knew she was probably tougher than she looked. As she offered Gail the pack of gum before folding another piece of it into her mouth, Gail tried to remember to breathe. She knew what Chris would say about the look on her face, but Dorsey didn't seem to notice. She remained silent, as she listened to Dorsey prattle on about town gossip that might be as old she could remember. It was working her last nerve when the radio crackled to life.

"We're going to have to proceed with caution, this place can be kind of rough." Dorsey informed her with a shrug as they pulled into the parking lot, "I guess we'll get to see some of that big city training of yours. The owner can be quite difficult. I can only hope that under the circumstances he will be willing to cooperate."

The Highlife still sat by its self a curve in the road under the shade of the towering pines, looking just like she remembered it. The man behind the bar looked older now, and yet, as if time had stood still, she remembered him just the way he was back in her late teens and early twenties; still in the same dark t-shirt and black jeans, with his hair slicked back, and his cigarettes rolled into the sleeve of his shirt.

"Hey you! Bartender!" She called out with a smirk, "You want to tell us what happened here?"

She could feel Dorsey stiffen and then stare at her, mouth slightly agape, as she glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. The man spun around and glared at them with suspicion.

"Oh my God!" He exclaimed as he recognized her, "will you look what the cat dragged in."

With a grin growing larger by the second, he held out his hands to her, and swaggered around the bar to greet them. She stood, thumbs locked in her belt loops, eyebrows arched of him as he approached.

"Hello Joey." She said calmly.

He stopped just inches from her, and looked her up and down. "Look at you! You told me this was never going to happen, but we both knew it always would."

She simply nodded.

"I guess you want to see what happened to Ben." He stated with the jerk of his head toward the back room. "And tell Nick I'm sorry."

"I haven't seen him in a while." She replied cautiously, as they followed closely behind him, "but thanks."

"Huh." Joey shrugged with a thoughtful expression briefly crossing his face.

Caucasian male, age thirty, Benjamin Parker Jones was lying slumped on the floor, half propped up against a stack of toppled liquor boxes, the needle still in his arm. The room smelled like stale beer, and spilled whiskey, and death. She hated it when dead people still had their eyes open. She knew what Holly would have said, but it still made her skin crawl. She sighed as Dorsey pushed past her to check the pulse of the prone figure.

"You know he's dead, right?" She rolled her eyes.

"Procedure." Dorsey shot back, as she rose to her feet, "And just what was your relationship with the deceased?" She turned to Joey.

"He drove a truck for my liquor supply company." Joey replied. "I found him like this when I came in this morning."

"Do you let all of your suppliers have keys to your bar?" Dorsey wanted to know.

Joey sighed, and looked away. "We grew up together. He was also a friend, ok?"

"Any idea where he got the dope?" Dorsey eyed him suspiciously.

He shook his head.

"Mind if we take a look around?" She pressed him, her hand resting on her gun.

"Yeah, I kinda do." He growled at her. "What the fuck kid!" He turned to Gail, "Am I some kind of a suspect?"

She shook her head.

"It's not personal." She replied, "We just need to..."

"Need to what? See if I was his dealer? Wonder if I killed him?" He snapped, "you of all people should know better!"

She held her hands up as if to placate him. "That's not what I was going to say, Joey."

"Oh really?" He glared at them.

"Really!" She gestured with both of her hands

"Well it sure doesn't feel that way!" He grumbled

She could feel Dorsey looking at her. She licked her lips and took a step forward.

"Look, I know how terrible this is for you." She said in a soft voice filled with rare compassion, "but we need to make sure there are no signs of foul play," she paused and pointed at the body with her chin, "other than, you know, the obvious."

She could feel Dorsey's eyes on her as Joey let out a sigh and sagged. Great. She was sure Dorsey was wondering if the rumors about her were true.

She took a deep breath and continued, "Has Ben been acting strangely lately that you might have noticed? Anyone new that he might have been hanging out with?"

"Other than your old boyfriend, no." Joey replied, crossing his arms, "You sure you haven't seen him?"

"Who Nick?" She could feel the shockwave pass through her. "He's here?!"

"Uh huh." He crossed his arms.

Dorsey was openly staring at her.

"He's been back from his last deployment for about a month." He continued, "and I know you two can never seem to stay away from each other, even though you both swear it will be different this time. So I just figured..." he shrugged back at her, with the palms of us open hands up.

With a shock, she realized that Nick must be undercover as a different version of himself, and wondered who else knew.

"Nope." She popped the p and then paused before rolling her eyes, "Thanks for your vote of confidence. After he ditched me in Vegas for the army, I would rather clean your men's room with my toothbrush than spend another second with that loser."

"This was your..." Dorsey started.

"Ex--fiancé." Gail replied with a sigh.

"Oh please!" Joey interrupted. He danced back behind the bar, safely out of Gail's striking distance, as she shot him a look of death. "And I know you guys. You say this now, but don't think I didn't know what you guys were up to in the stockroom after the first five times you broke up."

Gail sighed. She was really hoping to avoid things like this. At least until she had made her own reputation with the people in her unit. But she guessed that getting a chance to start clean, with new people, was just too much to ask for.

 

"Sargent Roy did tell me you grew up here," Dorsey began the minute they got back in the squad car, "would you care to tell me about this Nick person? As he is a person of interest, I need to know what your relationship with him is, so I can determine whether or not will it color your judgement."

"That was a long time ago." She replied with a sigh, "What?!" She scowled as Dorsey raised her eyebrows, "We were both twenty ."

Dorsey didn't look impressed.

"Ok... ok..." she continued, feeling her anger begin to boil just under her skin. Nick would spring this on her, using her to fill in his backstory on her very first day on the job here. She was going to kill him! "Nicholas Collins was this guy I met up here the summer I was seventeen. His parents and his younger sister had been killed in a car accident, and he and his older brother were living in an apartment in the Newhall's converted garage. I met him the summer after I graduated from high school. I was waitressing at the diner by the lake, instead of going to summer camp at the Academy, mostly to piss off my mother, when Nick rode up on his damn motorcycle. He tried to pick me up, and I dumped an entire picture of water in his lap."

She pretended to stare at her hands in her lap, while watching Dorsey try not to laugh out of the corner of her eye.

She shrugged, "He was hot, and reckless, and persistent, and I finally agreed to go out with him."

"What happened?" Dorsey wanted to know, "and when did you see him last?"

"You know, the usual." She shrugged again, and looked down at her hands. "we were on again, off again, on again for years, but I stupidly believed that he actually cared. I haven't seen him since he literally ditched me at the alter in Las Vegas to run off and join the army. Last I knew he was in Afghanistan."

"He left you at the alter?" Dorsey said.

"Yup." She replied, popping the p at the end.

"In Las Vegas?!" Dorsey sounded incredulous.

Gail's head snapped around. She glared hard at the clueless woman beside her.

"Oh." Dorsey finally managed.

"Yeah, oh." She replied, narrowing her eyes even further into dangerous, ice blue slits.

The lake was there, as cold, and steely blue as her mother's eyes, against the quickly darkening sky. It's surface gleamed in the dying light as she sank into the worn, navy blue sofa in the sunroom after putting her Gran's favorite Ella Fitzgerald record, the Cole Porter songbook, on the portable record player. She reached for the bottle, grateful for this moment of solitude. Bourbon. Of course it was. Why the fuck could she have not stashed something like tequila?! She sighed, closed her eyes, and pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders. The bottle was cool and heavy in her hand, fuller than she expected it to be when she pulled it from the place in the ductwork in her old room where she had hidden it so long ago.

"Really Gail!" The disapproval in her mother's voice was palpable, "You can only make a first impression once. And showing up to work hungover on your second day isn't the one you want to make."

She groaned and opened her eyes half expecting to find Elaine's wraith standing before her.

"Shut up! You're supposed to be dead." She grumbled.

"One would think that you would have learned your lesson about this kind of childish behavior back in Toronto. Moping and drinking alone like a love sick sick teenager isn't very becoming, is it?" The voice continued. "Dr.Stewart was a quite intelligent, career minded, person. No wonder she left you if you acted like this."

"You're not real!" She growled back.

She closed her eyes, took a deep swig from the bottle, and let her head fall back against the couch. It had been a long stressful day, and all she wanted was to be able to talk to Holly about it. Holly would know what to do about Nick, and everything else. Holly made her be a better person. She opened her eyes to find herself alone. The dark lake, and the blackened silhouettes of trees were silent. They had no answers.

"Fuck..." she breathed out as Ella began to sing.

_"Every time we say goodbye I die a little._

_Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little._

_Why the gods above me, who must be in the know,_

_Think so little of me, they allow you to go…"_


	3. Freeze Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is still reading this! I hope you like this chapter, and that I wasn't too incoherent when I wrote it

The last of the leaves clung to barren trees, like desperate sailors to the mast of a sinking ship, and there was ice on the water. Their feet crunched on the bodies of the fallen, beating them to fragrant dust as they passed. Frigid air bit into her lungs, and burned the back of her throat with each breath, but her body felt loose and warm as they turned the last corner of the path to run back along the shore. The lake was calm and still as if it were waiting for something, as if in suspended animation, and the wind smelled like snow for the very first time. Chris had come by in the early morning to drag her out of her kitchen for a run in the woods. God, she hated running! Why had she given him a key again? At least they could be sure that no one was listening to their conversation.

"I can't believe that Nick would just show up here and not tell us." Chris huffed, as she picked up the pace. "I mean, I'm sure he has his reasons, but come on!"

It had been a week of explaining to everyone that although yes, they had been lovers once upon a time, she had not seen Nick for a long time, and certainly not since she had returned here. It was beginning to really piss her off! The fact that she was unable to reach either Juliette or Noelle was making her uneasy too. Another body had turned up from Nick's old construction crew several days after Ben had been found at The Highlife, and it she was beginning to feel like she was standing still in the middle of a swarm of angry bees.

"At least you aren't under suspicion this time. You can simply pretend you don't know him." She growled back. "He's such an ass-hat!"

"You know you'll get no argument about that from me," Chris laughed, "but he's still one of our gang. And well, you know, he should know we have his back." He shook his head and continued, "He should have said something though, instead of just assuming we would play along."

"Yeah, well... maybe he couldn't. Dorsey is obsessed with bringing him in for questioning." She replied. "Race you back to the house. Last one back buys breakfast!" 

She pushed herself to sprint the last kilometer, leaving Chris in the dust. She was lounging on the front steps of the house, forcing herself to breathe normally when he finally came jogging up.

"Wow!" He gasped, bending over, holding his side, trying to catch his breath. "For someone who hates running, you sure are fast!"

"Come on loser, let's go to Mickey's!" She said with a grin, pushing herself to her feet. "There are maple donuts, and bacon with my name on them waiting for me!"

 

Marianna had worked the counter at Mickey's since before Gail could remember. She had two cups of coffee on the counter and a smile on her face before they were even in the door.

"It's so good to have you back from the big city Sugar!" She greeted them as they approached. "Here you go, milk no sugar for you, and black with two sugars for this handsome guy!" 

"Thanks Marianna." She replied quietly, perching herself on one of the red vinyl and chrome stools.

"You having the usual?" The waitress inquired, "And what about you, handsome?"

Chris simply blushed as he sat beside her.

"He'll have a cheese omelette, with a sausage on the side, and a muffin" She responded for him.

Marianna looked Chris up-and-down, "You be careful, or she'll break your heart."

"Thanks." Gail said bitterly.

Marianna rolled her eyes, and then winked at Chris, "Oops! I guess she already did." She said before sauntering off to the kitchen.

"How does she do that?" Chris wondered with a frown.

Gail just glared at him, and shook her head. 

"Come on." She said, as she got up with her coffee in hand, and led the way to the last booth by the window with a view out over the tops of the pines and across the water.

Three maple cream donuts with sprinkles, a small mountain of bacon, and a number of coffee refills later, she was sprawled across the red and white vinyl bench, lazily picking at Chris's home fries across the table. 

"Ooff!" She grunted, patting her belly, "I think I'll name my donut-baby George."

"You didn't have to eat all three of them." Chris laughed at her.

"George and I will just pretend we didn't hear you say that." She replied sternly, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, and her eyes sparkled.

Her phone began to ring just as she was reaching for another home fry. She ignored it.

"Aren't you going to get that?" He prodded.

"Nope." She replied, popping the crispy potato bit from his plate into her mouth, and licking her fingers. "They can leave a message. I'm eating."

"Come on Gail, it could be important." He implored.

She picked up another home fry, and licked her lips while studying it carefully, "What. You don't actually think anyone really wants to talk with me, do you? I mean, my parents are dead, my brother is in jail, and those losers we used to work with have written me off.", She replied before popping it into her mouth and chewing with a self satisfied expression.

"What if it is Dorsey?" Chris looked concerned.

"What if it is?" She rolled her eyes and shrugged, "Dorsey can wait.", she frowned slightly, "Anyway, if it is her, we will be there in less than an hour, so..."

"Aren't you even going to look at it?" He persisted.

She huffed at him as she pulled the offending object from the pocket of her leather jacket. "Fine!"

She glanced casually at the screen, keeping her face impassive, even though the all too familiar number set her nerves on edge.

"Wrong number." She lied. "I gotta pee, and then we should get out of here. Wouldn't want to keep Dorsey waiting, you know." She continued, while pushing herself abruptly to her feet.

The back hallway was dimly lit by the light coming from the kitchen, and through the window of the back door. The pay phone sat in between the two, where it always had. The hall was empty. 

"Shit." She muttered to herself. 

She walked over to look outside through the backdoor window. Nothing. Pacing back to open the door of the men's room, she peered inside. Still nothing. She half expected him to be waiting for her in the women's room, but it was empty as well. She quickly washed her hands and returned to the pay phone. There was a book of matches sitting on top, just like they used to do when she would sneak out of her parents house at night to meet him. Glancing up to make sure she was alone, she popped it open.

"Tonight?" Was all it said in his familiar scrawl.

Shit.

She snapped it shut and slipped it into her pocket. Her fingers groped for a nickel and three pennies, which she then slipped into the change box of the phone. She knew she should just leave this alone. She knew she should try harder to reach Noelle or Juliette, but she also knew Nick wouldn't come to her for her help if he wasn't desperate.

Marianna was looking at her from across the room with pursed lips, and opaque eyes as she slid back into the booth. 

"Ready to go?" She asked Chris after chugging the remainder of her coffee.

"Is everything ok?" He wanted to know as he got to his feet.

"Uh huh." She slid a five dollar note under the sugar bottle. "Now go pay up front." She demanded.

"What is that for?" He eyed her and the money suspiciously.

"Just because you are the cheapest man on earth, other than Dov, doesn't mean that I want to get on Marianna's bad side." She countered, before swaggering out the door to lean on the hood of his truck.

 

Timothy Neumann's face was grayish blue, and his tongue stuck out of his mouth like a dark purple sausage, but it was his bulging red eyes that bothered her most as she watched him swing gently in the breeze from the underside of the railroad bridge that crossed Willson's Creek. Petechial hemorrhage, she thought absently, that's what Holly would have told her. She sighed, wishing that the coroner's office would hurry up and get there. A couple of mountain bikers had spotted the body on their lunchtime run of the blue trail that followed the creek down to the lake. This was, as she pointed out to Dorsey, the fourth former employee of Harlow Construction who had turned up dead in the past month. Fortunately, she had not known him well. Dorsey had looked at her suspiciously when she identified the body, but she merely shrugged, reminding Dorsey bluntly that she had spent every summer of her childhood in this crummy little town, and had moved here for over a year after graduating from high school.

Great. Why was she the one that always got stuck with guarding the perimeter of these things?

She watched as one of the cyclists shook her head and gestured up the trail, as the other one stood watching Dorsey carefully as she questioned them. The sun had begun to warm the back of her jacket, making her start to over heat in spite of the cool weather, and her nose itched. She doubted they would be able to tell Dorsey anything useful. She was just beginning to zone out when a woman with short black hair, wearing tall rubber boots over her jeans, and a quilted vest breezed past her. 

"Hey!" She barked, "you're not allowed down there!"

"Who? Me?" The woman turned to look quizzically at her with bright green eyes, "I am."

"I said..." she began to take a menacing step forward, and then she noticed it. The forensic kit bag was blue instead of red this time, but it still made her feel as if she had been punched in the chest. "Oh." She staggered, and stopped. 

Perfect. 

A small frown was creasing the woman's forehead as she gazed up at Gail. 

"Excuse me?" The woman challenged.

"I can now see that you are one of those forensics nerds." She rolled her eyes in an attempt to cover up the sinking feeling in her stomach. "I thought the coroner was some old guy, but I guess you'll do."

The woman tilted her head and studied her.

"Dr. Grant is away on a three month research fellowship about DNA reconstruction, and I'm filling in." She flashed an impish grin and extended her hand, "Dr. Jennifer Ouellette, but most people just call me Jen."  
"Everyone goes to San Francisco...", she grumbled mostly to herself, as she thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

"What?" Jen looked confused.

"I said," She practically growled, "I hope he likes San Francisco."

"How did you know that's where the study is?" Jen's eyes crinkled with amusement, as she retracted her hand.

Gail sighed.

"Just a guess", She rolled her eyes.

"And you are, officer...?" Gail watched Jen's eyes scan her uniform, and then widen and slightly as they found the name tag, but her smile never dimmed. "Peck."

"That's right." She conceded.

"So you're Gail Peck." Jen replied thoughtfully.

She could feel her hackles rising. She licked her lips and took an aggressive step forward. "And?" She could feel herself making her "what the fuck" gesture with her hands and she said it.

"And…", Jen's smile was warmer this time, in a way that lit up her eyes, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gail."

Gail scowled, stopped, and stood still as the world seem to tilt and vibrate around her.

"Why? Gill knew the question probably sounded more aggressive than she meant it to be, if she cared.

Jen looked concerned, "I'm sorry, I thought you were still friends with..." 

"What." She laughed bitterly, "you can say her name, it's not like it's going to kill me." 

"Oh." Jen's the furrow in Jen's brow deepened, "I didn't realize that you and... well... I'm sorry."

Gail shrugged.

Jen paused, seemed to decide something, shook her head and finally smiled, "Alright Gail. I know it looks like suicide, but we're going to treat this like a crime scene. Do you think you can show me where you think the point of entry is?"

 

The bar at Finn's was as dark and cramped as she remembered it, curving in a slow ark from the door to the entrance of an even darker back room. She had been surprised, and somewhat suspicious, when Dorsey appeared at her desk as their shift was ending and asked if she would like to get a drink. It's not like she was supposed to have anywhere to be. Finn's reminded her of every good cop-bar with its mix of sportsman, Junior District attorneys, legal aids, reporters from the local newspaper, locals, and of course cops. This had been Steve's bar right after he graduated from The Academy, and her parents' as well. There was still a picture of her brother, grinning in his hockey uniform, with the other officers on his team holding up a trophy. She sighed as she watched Dorsey talking to George, the bartender.

"Just what do you think you're doing Gail?" Her mother's voice held its usual edge of judgmental annoyance as she materialized at Gail's elbow.

"Great." Gail muttered back, "What do you want now, Elaine?"

Her mother's wraith sighed. "I wish you wouldn't call me that. How are you ever going to get ahead if you keep messing around like this? Don't you think it's time to grow up?"

She glared back. "All right mother, would you care to tell me exactly what you're talking about?"

"Oh please!" Elaine rolled her eyes, "Stop being such a child. I know you're smarter than this. Can't you even try to make a good impression with your superior officers?"

"I don't know what you're talking about mother. And besides, it's none of your business." She growled.

"I always told you Nathan wasn't good enough for you. But you could never listen to me about that could you?" Elaine's voice was nagging in her ear. 

"His name is Nicholas! But you know that." she shut her eyes with frustration. When she opened them Dorsey was standing in front of her holding two beers and two shots of amber liquid.

"Is everything alright?" Dorsey looked concerned.

"Yeah... yeah... I'm just tired." She lied, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You just look, well, I don't know pale or something…" Dorsey began.

"Don't you mean paler than usual?" Chris butted in, popping up behind Dorsey.

"No." She glared at him, "Now why don't you go see that redhead badge bunny over there who's been eyeing you." She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the back room.

"She has?" He marveled.

"Just go." She pointed as she replied more forcefully.

Dorsey looked amused as Chris grinned and ambled off across the bar.

"You two seem to have quite a history." Dorsey said, while handing Gail a shot glass.

"We were at rookies together back in Toronto, and roommates." Gail shrugged "But you knew that."  
She could feel her self becoming more and more edgy as the minutes ticked by. What the hell had Nick gotten himself into? And why was Dorsey suddenly being so friendly? She knew she would have to be careful. She studied Dorsey quietly, and waited for a response as Dorsey took a sip from her shot glass. 

"From what I've heard, you were more than just roommates." Dorsey finally stated, looking pointedly at her.

Gail sighed. She knew that this had been too easy, but her relationship with Chris was the last thing she had expected to be answering questions about. She tried not to sound relieved as she answered, allowing the edge annoyance to sneak into her voice.

"We are just friends now, if you really must know." she scowled.

"If you say so." Dorsey conceded.

"I do." Gill picked up her shot and downed it in one swift motion. "And now I think I'll go home, not that this hasn't been lovely bonding with you." 

"Come on Peck, don't be that way. I know we might've gotten off to a rough start but we do have to work together." Dorsey replied.

"You know, it's been a long day, and we're going to have another long day tomorrow so..." Gail shrugged as she got up off her barstool.

"All right," said Dorsey, "but you're going to have to come out with me again sometime soon."

Gail just nodded.

She could feel anxiety fluttering against her ribs like a caged bird on the drive home. As she pulled into the drive, her tires crunched too loudly on the pavement, and her heart beat faster, but the house looked dark and quiet. 

Where was he? 

The front door was still locked and nothing seemed amiss as she stepped into the dark entryway of her home. As she reached for the light switch the rustle of cloth and a light step on a creepy board betrayed the presence of another person. She had just enough time to react and pull out her gun, before she was shoved roughly up against the wall, pinned with a forearm across her chest, and a gun to her head. She thrust the barrel of her Sig Sauer hard into the side of her assailant. 

"Jesus Christ Gail!" He hissed into her ear, as he lowered his weapon and stepped back.

The blue eyes staring back at her, and that voice, caught her completely off guard.

"What the fuck Homicide?! Were you trying to get yourself killed?" She quickly holstered her own gun and stared at him. "Wait... what, what are you doing here?" She stammered.

"It's nice to see you too." He gave her an ironic grin, "now come on, we don't have a lot of time!"


	4. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that these chapters keep coming more slowly than anyone might like. I miss Gail, and can't seem to stop writing these stories. I hope you all haven't completely lost patients with me and are still reading this! Thank you for all of your comments and PMs, they make me feel like I'm not just shouting into the void.

The woods were alive with the memories of ghosts, with unseen eyes watching them, with malevolent shadows that shifted, and changed, and reached for them with phantom fingers, and with the cold mist that rose from the lake. It glowed softly in the moonlight, taunting her, and wove it's self between the blackened trees like lace as they hurried up narrow path to the cabin on the ridge behind the house. She could feel Luke's presence following close behind, although he was silent as the night. The tiny cabin was dark and silent too. She fumbled for her keys as they climbed the three stone steps leading to the porch, and cursed softly under her breath as the light from his phone illuminated several tiny drops of blood on the threshold. He pressed himself into her back as she open the door and they slipped inside. Hastily, she lowered the blinds and clicked on the light. They were alone.

"Shit." Luke muttered as he sat down heavily on a chair at the ancient wooden farm table in the center of the main room. "He said he was going to meet me here."

He ran his fingers frustratedly through his hair.

"Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on? She crossed her arms and stood back to glare at him.

"No." He replied, staring at her stubbornly.

She sighed and tilted her head slightly, the way that Holly used to do.

He sighed and pressed his fingers into his eyes for a moment before looking up to answer her.

"All right." He conceded, "all right, but the less you know, the better it is."

"For who?" She replied somewhat more aggressively than she had intended.

"Look, as you have probably figured out, we know that Jimmy Harlow is using his father's construction company to, at the very least launder money for the Bouchard Brothers, if not to also run an extortion ring, and move drugs across the border from the States. We know that Jimmy went to school with Adrian Bouchard, but we have never been able to prove anything beyond that." Luke went on.

"Until now." She interrupted.

"That's right." Luke nodded. ""Until now."

"So, let me guess." She put her hands on her hips and glared harder at him, "Nick was perfect, having worked for James Sr. when he still ran the company, and then having run off to Afghanistan where he disappeared for years..." she couldn't help but let the bitterness creep into her voice.

"That's right." His tone was guarded. "He was just going to consult from the outside for this, until his friend Shawn went missing. And then it became personal."

"Shawn is missing?" She let the shock reach her voice, "Shawn Winter?"

"Yes." He looked steadily back at her. "You knew him? Of course you did." He shook his head.

"They were practically inseparable." She licked her lips and took a deep breath, "Shawn and his mom were the only people who kept in touch with Nick and his brother after the accident. Nick brought me to dinner at their house when we first started dating exclusively." She could feel the panic rising in her throat, "They were best friends before..." She could feel the weight of Luke's cool blue eyes on her. She crossed her arms again, "I think his mother always regretted not being able to have Nick come live with them instead of going into the system after his parents died. But that was before I met him."

"Shawn was the one who originally got him a job with Harlow Construction." Luke stated softly.

She shifted her weight, "Huh... I did not know that."

They stared at each other in the dim light, weighing out their words. Luke pulled his phone out of his pocket and glared at it as if it had the power to speak by its self. He quickly typed out a text and laid it down on the table.

"What." She challenged him. She could feel her hackles rising, along with the anxiety for Nick's safety.

Luke sighed.

"Your transfer here has been both... unfortunate, and complicated for our op." He finally admitted.

She could feel that old familiar weight of inadequacy gathering in the pit of her stomach, the pain creeping up into her chest and into her throat, to come to rest in a ball behind her eyes.

"And just why is that?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

He simply gave her a pointed look.

"Oh." She conceded as it all came crashing down on her, "I see... You still don't trust me."

"Oh I trust you." He laughed bitterly, "I trust you, and so does Nick or we wouldn't be here. The problem is that we can't have you be a part of this. Given what your family's plans were for you, if anything about this op were to become compromised, you would take the fall with the department, and it would ruin your life."

"Wait... what?!" She openly stared at him, "What plans?"

He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Gail."

"No! No, no, no, no... you can't not tell me!" She took an aggressive step forward.

He sighed and looked away. She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward, toward him. She could hear her mother laughing.

"If you hadn't insisted on being so difficult when you were a rookie... so belligerent... so pig-headed..." Elaine whispered smoothly into her ear.

"Fuck you Homicide!" She snarled, trying to get her mother's voice out of her head.

He sighed again, and remained silent. Just then, her phone rang; only once but it was enough as she stared at the incoming number.

"Shit!" She spun around and ran for the door, with him following at her heels. "Come on!"

They slipped into the house through the back of the kitchen. Crossing the room, she reached for the door knob she had not dared to touch since her return. Her mothers study was just she remembered it, with its dark wood paneling, and floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the large tv monitor hanging above the bar across from the stately oak desk. She always joked that this room looked like it belonged to double-oh-seven, or in a bad nineteen seventies mobster movie, much to her mother's annoyance. And there he was, with his feet propped up on the desk holding his heavily bandaged left hand. All she could think about was how much Elaine would hate that.

"Took you long enough." He smirked, swinging his feet to the floor and standing up to greet them.

"What happened to you?" She asked, stepping forward to pick up his injured arm by the wrist.

He shrugged, as he pulled his hand away. "Dog bite. It's nothing."

She tilted her head, and glared at him until she heard Luke clear his throat behind her.

He looked over at Luke, "Don't worry, I got it all done before Bella, Jimmy's German shepherd, bit me on the way out of the front gate. We should have eyes and ears on everything, including the trucks, just as soon as I can sync it with your tablet."

"Good." Luke replied. "What are you going to tell Jimmy?"

"Half a truth." Nick replied, and shrugged again. "That his damn dog bit me when I came by the warehouse looking for him, because I wanted to let him know you were here."

"You don't think he'll be suspicious?" Luke gave Nick a hard stare.

"Negative." Nick shot back with a cocky grin, "Even though I can tell Jimmy is getting kind of twitchy, he would just out right lie about being there, and would expect me to do the same."

"You know him." Luke conceded with a shrug.

"If everything is so hunky dory, then why are you here?" She narrowed her eyes at both of them.

They looked at each other and then at her. "Now Gail..." Nick began, holding up both of his hands before him, and backing away from her, "don't take this the wrong way..."

"What." She glared harder at him, crossing her arms.

"Because we are pretty sure that there is a leak inside the department, if not at least one bent cop, we needed to set up a secure facility to process evidence, to do some forensic work we know will not be tampered with, somewhere completely off the radar, somewhere only we know..." he began.

"Oh no, you didn't!" Her eyes went wide with disbelief.

"Come on Gail, what would you have done?" He laughed nervously, while backing further away from her.

"What would I have done?" She could feel the heat of anger rising in her veins, "Are you serious?! I would not have made you regret everything I ever told you. That's what!"

Luke looked confused. "Would you like to tell me what the two of you are talking about?"

"Nice. Way to go Nick." There was a dangerous edge to her voice. She licked her lips, and gave his shoulder a hard shove. "Why don't you just turn it into an Airbnb."

Nick looked away.

"Gail..? Nick..?" Luke looked confused. "Would somebody like to tell me what you guys are talking about?"

"That's right." Gail smiled dangerously, "Go on Nick, since you are so proud of your little solution, tell him. Tell the whole world while you are at it."

"Gail... you know it's not like that..." he tried to placate her.

"Gail..?" Luke asked softly, his brow crinkled with concern.

"He's talking about the fucking safe house." She snarled as she rounded on him.

"The what?" Luke looked confused.

Her eyes snapped back to fix Nick with an icy glare. "Safe house." She repeated, and her voice was deadly cold. "Go on Nicholas..."

Nick sighed and looked up. "There is a secure bunker buried between here and the cabin, connected to both by tunnels."

"What?" Luke looked up sharply at her.

"Yeah." She sagged a little bit at this confession, feeling as if all of her breath had suddenly been knocked out of her.

Luke stared at her and waited

"My parents and my uncle had it built right before he went on his final undercover assignment, when Steve and I were kids. It has a full command center, and even though it is wired to the house most of the time, it has it's own utility systems, air filtration, water supply from a different well. Up to eight adults could live there for up to a month without ever having to leave if they had to. We were warned never to talk about it outside the family, but I brought Nick down there, like an idiot, on the night he asked me to marry him." She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Oh." Luke replied.

"Gail... look..." Nick held up his hands in surrender.

"This is my house Nick. Did you ever stop to think about that? Did you ever stop for one second to think at all?!" she growled.

"Who knows about this place?" Luke asked

"Well... since my uncle and my parents are dead… just me, and Steve, and Nick of course, and now all of Canadian law enforcement." She spat.

"Look, you're right, this is your house." Luke stated calmly, "I don't need to report this you know, and unless it is being used in the commission of a crime, I won't."

She just stared at him.

His eyes were clear as he gazed steadily into hers, "When have you ever not been able to trust me?"

Nick cleared his throat, "Um... actually, there is one more person who is helping me set up some very important, sensitive equipment down there..."

"What the actual fuck Nick?!" She interrupted, as her head snapped around to glare at him, "and just you were going to tell me about this... when?"

"I'm, uh, telling you now." He had the good sense to look sheepish.

"Nice." She replied with a saccharine voice, and cold dangerous smile, "Thanks for keeping me in the loop, and thanks for thinking about my safety, and my career, especially now that Dorsey has decided that she and I are pals. As Homicide here so kindly pointed out, it's so nice for you to have someone easy to blame if things go wrong."

"Now Gail..." Nick replied, "Come on, you know it's not that bad. You know that I would never..."

"What Nicholas," She interrupted him again, shaking her head, "let me down?"

They glared at each other in silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry Gail, I know this isn't ideal." Luke finally stated.

"Ok." She sighed, "but since Boy Wonder over here decided to base your op out of my house, we may as well figure out what role I'm going to play in this. This is my house. It's not like I'm not involved."

"Yeah," Luke looked resigned, "ok, you're in."

The glare and the hum from the overhead florescent lights was giving her a headache as she read another page from the Harlow Construction financial ledger in French. Or maybe it was just all of the paperwork she was reading and trying to make sense of. It had been two weeks since Luke came to town, and they were slowly making progress. This was not how she had planned to spend her days off, but Luke had insisted that it was important.

Inside the bunker was strictly utilitarian white and grey, metal and plastic, and that made her head hurt too. They had decided, until they could determine who on the force was dirty, the bunker would be the only safe place to store and work on the evidence they collected. And now, sitting behind her, where a set of bunk beds used to be, was a bank of brand new lab equipment, machines like the ones that Holly used. She rose to her feet with a growl so fast she sent the metal chair flying across the room. She closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the corporeal assault of memories. She could almost feel Holly's hands on her skin, pulling her in, holding her close, remembered the way she smelled, that scent that is unique to each person, the touch of her lips on Gail's shoulder...

Fuck.

She was so tired, and it had been too long since she had felt that safe. She angrily brushed the stubborn tears from her cheeks, picked up the chair and placed it carefully back at its place at the table. She had to get out of here!

The shot glass made a satisfying clunk on the bar, and the amber liquid sloshed but didn't spill out, as Joey's hand plunked it down in front of her without a word. She glanced at him sideways out of the corner of her eye but didn't look up as she felt his hips settle, leaning up against the beer cooler next to hers. She ignored him and kept polishing the glassware.

"Want to talk about it?" He offered.

"Nope." She picked up the glass, and turned to clink it with his before tossing back the shot in one smooth motion. The tequila burned all the way down.

"Want another?" He motioned at her glass with the open bottle.

She grunted and thrust it toward him without looking.

"You're not supposed to be on tonight." He bumped her with his shoulder.

"Joey," she said dryly, "its Saturday night. Are you complaining?"

"No." He laughed, "but if you don't lighten up you will scare the customers."

She rolled her eyes at him.

At Luke's suggestion, she had asked Joey if he needed any part-time help, and now, here she was, back behind the bar at The Highlife, just like old times when she was younger. She suddenly felt far older than her thirty-two years.

"Seriously kid, what is up with you tonight.?" His voice was soft with concern.

"Well you know Joey," she licked her lips and smiled coldly at him, "everyone in this town knows that I'm a cop. And if that doesn't scare them away, they know that I'm a bitch too."

He simply laughed at her.

It was late. The bar was packed. The music was loud. It was the weekend and people were out to party. She had not stopped or slowed down for the past three hours. The wildly popular, local blues band, Hippopotamus, was about to go back on for their second set when she happened to look up, past the burley guy with the two IPAs and the Seagrams Manhattan, toward the booth where Jen and the other forensics nerds were drinking. The woman standing there speaking with them had her back turned to the bar. Her skin tight, skinny jeans were tucked haphazardly into the tops of her combat boots, and her long black hair cascaded down her back over her leather jacket. The familiar movement of her arm, when she lifted her right hand to adjust her glasses, caught Gail's eye. The world stood still. It was as if she had suddenly fallen through the ice and was drowning in the frigid depths of the lake. All the world was muffled into silence, as she gazed through the murky waters that obscured everything, except for her. She was in crystalline, sharp focus, bathed in light.

"Hey! Come on!" Someone was shouting at her. "Are you going to give me that beer, or are you just going to hold it for me all night?"

"Look dickhead, your lucky that I'm gonna serve you at all." She snarled back at him, slamming his drinks down on the bar.

"Nice!" He spat back at her, "just put it on my tab."

She nodded absently, frozen to the spot. He took his drinks and headed back to where his friends were waiting. Gail watched him go for a moment and then looked back across the room. She was gone. Gail shook her head and turned her attention back to the line of people waiting for her to serve them. It made her wonder if she had been real, or if she had simply conjured up an apparition of Holly out of thin air, and the emptiness in her heart.


	5. Hemlock Ch.5 - Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gail has the longest day, beginning with having to report to work early with the discovery of a fresh body in a snowstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! I know it has taken me forever to update this fic (just about a year). I am so grateful to all of you who are still reading! I hope you enjoy it!

 

* * *

They were lying on the dock that swayed gently as the water of the lake moved beneath them. Sunlight warmed her as a soft breeze ruffled her hair. Holly smelled like sunshine, and cut grass, and something musky, darker, almost cinnamon. The hand that had been lazily stroking her bare stomach drifted upwards. The languid drag of fingertips on skin driving her crazy. It cupped her breast sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her as Holly propped herself up on one arm, blocking out the sun. She wanted to speak, but found that she couldn’t. She closed her eyes and Holly was gone.

 It was seven thirty in the morning, and it was still dark outside, and cold. She wasn’t sure if it was the unnatural brightness of the scene unfolding before her, or simply her lack of sleep that made this feel so unreal, like a movie set; a bad, cheap, gory, B-movie set at that. Scott David Jefferson, or that’s what the ID they pulled from his wallet said, was lying face down half buried in a dirty snowbank. He was frozen to the spot where the unnerved plow driver had deposited his body. Only his right arm, the back of his head, and his mangled legs were uncovered. His left foot was missing and his right leg was gashed to the bone that was shining through the rip in his jeans, thanks to being picked up by the plow blade. His wallet had been conveniently deposited on the asphalt, along with his right shoe.

  _Who wore deck shoes with no socks in this weather? Stupid hipster! What a loser! At least he was so frozen that there wasn’t much blood. What a mess!_

 It was still snowing. She watched the steam rising from the lights as the snow hit them and let her mind drift back to Holly. Holly would be in her glory over something like this. She would already be calculating how many hours ago it had begun to snow, and how long ago the victim could have been placed beneath that particular snowbank. If Gail had to guess, due to the amount of blood at the scene, Holly might be hypothesizing that the victim may have been killed elsewhere, and then dumped. But she was going to keep that thought to herself, for now, or at least until the forensic nerds did their thing.

  _Come on Gail! Concentrate!_

 The day had begun with vivid dreams that were tangled up in memory, the inability to sleep, a pounding in her head, and an unreasonable hollow ache in her chest. The silence of the lake and the howling wind mocked her as she sat over a cup of bicarbonate with cold medicine, and a fresh mug of coffee. Staring into the black abyss, she wondered how many shots of tequila had she done after Holly’s apparition disappeared. She wasn’t sure. She had a vague memory of Joey keeping her glass full and telling her to calm down, and then one of Chris practically carrying her up her stairs, and putting her to bed. Although she wasn’t supposed to be at work until later, Dorsey’s call about a body having been uncovered in the parking lot of the town library was almost a relief from the swarm of bees that had taken up residency in her scull. And now, here she was, bundled up against the cold, and losing all feeling in her face and toes. She sauntered with a practiced swagger in the direction of the gristly scene, trying not to move too quickly so as not to jar her aching head. As she moved closer, she could see Jen, the forensics nerd, beckoning in her direction.

 “Hey Gail,” Jen greeted her with a smile, “What’s the ETA on those additional heaters?”

 She shrugged and instantly regretted rolling her eyes,

 “Do you think we could possibly get some more heaters down to the library to unstick this loser from the pavement before the rest of us freeze to death?” She grumbled into her radio.

 “Nice!” She could hear Chris laughing at her over the airwaves from his warm seat at dispatch “Copy that. I’ll see what I can do.”

 She shrugged, “You heard the man” She replied as she stifled a yawn into arm the of her coat.

 Jen arched her eyebrows at her but said nothing.

  _Strange, she could like Jen,_ she decided. _Who knew that forensic nerds were her people?_

 “Hey!” Dorsey called out, striding purposefully toward them, making her bristle, “Dr. Oullette, any thoughts on the cause of death?”

 Both heads turned in her direction.

 “Well,” Jen drawled, “maybe when our victim is in a position where I can actually examine him, and not impersonating a dirty pile of snow I will have some ideas on that subject.” She pursed her lips into a grimace, and tilted her head toward them.

 “Ok, but how long do you think…” Dorsey pressed on.

 Gail watched as Jen narrowed her eyes at Dorsey and looked past her to her three junior forensic nerds who suddenly seemed to be doing something in a flurry of activity around the victim.

 “Officers, if you will excuse me I think I’m needed over there.” Jen snapped, “And you will know when I know.”,She turned on her heal and left with a curt nod.

 Gail smirked as she watched her go.

 “Rude!” Dorsey sighed. looked at the ground and then back up at Gail, “Time to start knocking on doors to see if anyone on the street might have seen something. And check to see if the library’s security cameras caught anything too.”  
  
She walked away without waiting for a response.

* * *

 

Margaret Murphy lived across the playground that was adjacent to the library with her three rescue dogs and seven cats. At eightyseven years old, the former librarian still got up every morning before six to begin her day. Normally, Gail would have avoided entering the crazy cat lady’s house at all cost, but after two and a half hours of fruitlessly knocking on doors, she was grateful to be out of the weather. She found herself seated at Mrs. Murphy’s kitchen table with a cup of tea warming her hands, and the two larger dogs pressed up against her legs with their heads in her lap.

 “I remember when your brother jumped off of the railroad bridge on Elm Street on a dare form that Jones boy, what was his name? Oh yes, Benny… It’s a shame about him. I heard he turned to drugs and accidentally did himself in. Such a nice young man. Anyway, your brother was a wild one when he was a teenager! I always knew that your parents wanted him to follow in their footsteps, but…” Mrs. Murphy stared off into space. “Where was I?”

 She could feel her heart beating faster and that familiar sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach, “My brother Steve and Ben Jones? Are you sure?” She asked sharply.

 “Yes dear.” Mrs. Murphy continued, “That summer right before he entered the Police Academy. They were inseparable. The two of them and that other boy, Jimmy, were always running around in your brother’s old Jeep with the top off causing trouble. I believe you were off being an exchange student somewhere abroad, or they might have pulled you into their shenanigans too. But they were always good to me, especially Steven.” 

 She could feel the flush of heat rising up her neck.

 “Jimmy Harlow?” She asked, as her heart skipped an uncomfortable beat.

 “That’s right.” Mrs. Murphy smiled. “You know he’s still here in town. He works so hard I rarely see him anymore. ”

 “I did not know that. I haven’t seen him in forever, not since we were kids.” She could feel herself flush and then go clammy cold as a rock settled in her stomach, and she forced herself to smile.

 “Why, yes dear. He had been going to school somewhere in the states, but after his father’s accident, he practically took over running the business.” Mrs. Murphy replied blithely. “And how is your brother? I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to you.”

 “Steve is ok. He’s been really very busy this year, and we haven’t had a whole lot of time to hang out in a while… And I didn’t really know Jimmy, so I’m sure it slipped his mind.” She answered cautiously.

 “Well, you make sure to tell him I said hello the next time you talk with him!” Mrs. Murphy smiled.

 “Uh huh, I certainly will.” She replied, wondering what else Mrs. Murphy might know,, and why she didn’t seem to know that Steve was in jail, “Anyway, about last night, did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary?”

 “Now that you mention it, my dogs did wake me up just before four, desperate to go outside. It was snowing so hard I just let them out into the yard, but they wouldn’t stop barking.” Mrs. Murphy poured her more tea before she could object, “When they finally did come back inside, it took them a long while to settle down, but I thought it was just the storm.”

 “Thank you! You’ve been very helpful.” She said suddenly getting to her feet. “And now I really must be going.”

 “Are you sure you can’t stay and finish your tea? It’s still snowing outside and this weather is just lousy!” Mrs. Murphylooked concerned.

 She sighed, “I wish…” She could feel herself slump slightly as she said it. “But you know, as they say, duty calls.”

 “I guess you’re right.” Mrs. Murphy got to her feet as well, “But at least let me give you a thermos and some cookies for the road. Don’t worry, you can get it back to me the next time you’re in the neighborhood.” She said over her shoulder as she shuffled toward the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

“You know Peck, if you keep scrunching up your face like that, someday it’s going to freeze that way.” Dorsey’s voice was friendly, almost flirty in a way she wasn’t used to. It snapped her out of her head and back to the glare of her computer screen and the buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights.

“What?!” she shot back with a glare.

 “You’ve been scowling off into space for at least the last half an hour. Care to share what you are thinking about with the class?” Dorsey replied with a smirk.

 It was bad enough that Dorsey wouldn’t let up about her old relationship with Nick, and assumed that she was withholding information about him. Voicing her thoughts about Steve, and the new questions that had been plaguing her all day would be the last thing she ever intended to do.

“Actually,” She licked her lips “I was just wondering about some apparent inconsistencies about the body that was found at the library this morning,” She yawned, as she stretched and rose to her feet to make good her escape.

“Inconsistencies?”,Dorsey said sharply.

“Yeah, inconsistencies, like why there wasn’t more blood, and why our vic didn’t seem to be dressed for the weather.” She kept her tone light and her face neutral.

 “You think he may not have been killed there.” Dorsey looked somewhat startled and vaguely impressed.

 “Nope.” She shrugged, and inspected her fingernails.

 “You think it’s a homicide.” Dorsey replied.

 “I don’t think that that loser simply froze to death. I think he may be tied in some way to our other cases that all look accidental on the surface.” Gail shrugged,“And besides, I was thinking about taking a walk down to the morgue to see if they have gotten a positive I.D. and determined the cause and time of death, like you asked.”

 “Ok.” Dorsey nodded, “Why don’t you do that, and then you can go home after you write up their findings. I know your official shift doesn’t end for another two hours, but we have both been on this death for almost fourteen, and I’m going to need you to be fresh in the morning.”

 “Thanks” She grumbled, knowing that by the time she got to the morgue and back, and finished writing up up a detailed report, that she wouldn’t be getting off any earlier than her normal shift would be over, and that was if she hurried.

* * *

 

She was halfway home when her car started to fishtail on the road. She held her breath and took her foot off the gas as she fought to regain control. She knew that she was too tired and preoccupied with what Mrs. Murphy had told her, and the weather conditions were too bad to be driving as fast as she had been. She hadn’t been going that fast really, barely fifty-six Kilometers per hour, but it was cold and late enough that the road had turned to ice without a steady stream of traffic, and there was already quit a bit of an accumulation of freshly fallen snow. She could feel the knot of tension twist in her belly as the curve overlooking the lake came into view too fast, and her car began to spin.

 The wind howled as it rattled the trees and shook the house as the storm grew more intense. It spat snow that splattered up against the windows, and hurled freezing rain that sounded like moose tap-dancing on the roof. Her car still needed to be excavated from the spot where it had landed, deep in a snowbank next to the guardrail. When Chris stepped out of his pick up truck and into the waltz of blue and red lights on falling snow she thought she had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. He was frantic when he realized the car off the road was hers! Helping the hose monkeys to dig her out enough to be able to open her car door with the shovel from the back of his truck, she could hear him cursing. He wouldn’t believe she was actually just incredibly shaken and embarrassed, but at least physically fine, until she was standing before him.She hit him when he tried to make her go to the hospital in the waiting ambulance, and he laughed with relief. When the tow truck finally arrived, Bob DuMonte, one of the department’s mechanics who also had his own towing and plowing business was driving. Chris made him promise to drop it off at the station and look it over, before he gave her a ride home and promised to pick her up in the morning. As tempting as his offer to stay with her had been, she just wanted to be alone. She knew she should just go to bed, but she didn’t care as the hot water in her bath was beginning to make her feel almost human again and warm for the first time all day. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, sinking deeper into its embrace.  
  
“You should be more careful.” Purred a smooth, deadly voice, that pulled her from her reverie.  
  
“What do you want now, Elaine?” She sighed and opened her eyes to find her mother perched on the edge of the tub still sporting her crisply starched Inspector’s uniform.

 Elaine looked at her with wide blue eyes so much like her own. “Can’t a mother worry about her only daughter?”

 “A mother can… but I’m pretty sure you are actually just here to judge me.” Gail glared at her,  

“You really should take a better outlook on life Gail, and stop jumping to conclusions.” Elaine scolded mildly, as a cold smile played across her lips but didn’t reach her eyes

 “Really?!” She glared. She hated it when Elaine did that. It always felt like she was trying to soften her up before sticking in the knife.

 “I am your mother and I do care about you,” Elaine continued, “no matter how poor some of your choices have been.”

 Gail licked her lips,“I’m so sorry to disappoint you. Again.” She replied in a sugary tone, although her eyes remained as hard as the ice on the lake.

 The storm raged on, as the heat made the pipes knock loudly and lightning flashed in the sky.

 Elaine looked her over with a flick of her eyes, “Even you must admit, however admirable the intentions behind your misguided actions have been in the past, you should think harder about the consequences. And you really should be thinking about your future. ”

 “And just what is that supposed to mean, Mother.” She rolled her eyes

“Just remember who you are and where your loyalties should be.” Elaine chided

 “Of course. This is about Stephen.” She licked her lips and looked away, at the wall, “Well don’t worry mother, I haven’t breathed a word about my suspicions to anyone… yet”

 When she looked back up, Elaine was gone.

 “Just great.” She grumbled, as she stood up and reached for her towel.

 As she was drying her hair, she wondered what else could possibly go wrong before she put herself to bed. There was an urgent pounding on her front door.

 “Jesus Fucking Christ! Seriously?” She cursed to herself, wondering who might be demanding her attention at this late hour, and why they hadn’t simply called, before hurrying to pull on her academy sweatpants and threadbare blue hoodie.

“All right! All right! I’m coming! I’m coming!” She yelled, as she padded on bare feet towards the front stairs.

 As she reached the bottom, she could see a tall, thin, figure pacing on her front porch through the windows in her front doors. The hood of her parka was pulled up. Ice clung to the fur trim and to the familiar red wool scarf that spilled from the front. It took her breath away. As she wrenched open the front door, the figure spun around to face her.

 “What… what are you doing here?” She stuttered. She could feel herself gesturing in the direction of the unlikely woman standing before her.

 “I heard what happened with your car!” Holly’s voice was shaky as she lowered her hood, “And I know I shouldn’t just show up like this… but, you know…” She fidgeted like a small child might, “I just needed to be sure you were ok…. or something?” 

 She couldn’t stop herself as she reached for Holly’s scarf, pulling her over the threshold of the mudroom and then further into the house, slamming the doors behind them as they went. She didn’t care that Holly was cold and wet as she pulled her flush to her, or that it had been almost two years since they had spoken last, or that Holly’s coat hit the floor with a soggy thud splashing icy water onto her bare feet. Holly’s lips sent a rush of everything she had been missing in her life through her body all at once. She found herself melting into Holly’s embrace as strong arms embraced her and held her tight. It was overwhelming. As they finally, breathlessly pulled apart, she gently removed Holly’s fogged glasses from her face so they could properly look at each other.

 “What are you doing here” she asked again, in a barely audible voice.

 “When Luke called and asked me to join the investigation, I thought I would be able to keep things professional, to stay away.” Holly replied sheepishly, “But I missed you. And when I heard about you driving off the road…” She shrugged “And I just heard about the rest of it all too.” She reached up to brush Gail’s face with tender fingers, “I am so sorry.”

 Gail shrugged, and tried to turn away, but Holly tightened her grip, and pulled her impossibly closer.

 “I should have been here.”

 “I’m the one who told you we should stop talking when you left. That it would be too weird and painful…” Gail replied, feeling her heart pounding up against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

 “I never should have left.” Holly admitted, unshed tears welling in her eyes.

 “But your dream job…” She protested, weakly

 “I was in love with you.” Holly whispered.

 “Oh.” Gail could feel the heat, the longing, the loneliness, and something distinctly like hope all bubbling up inside of her.She thought her heart might just explode. “And now?” She whispered.

“I still am” Holly admitted as their foreheads touched, “The truth is, I said yes to Luke because I want you back if you will have me.”


End file.
